The rain woke Kelton early. It soaked into his clothing adding to the chill that shook him from the inside. The sun had yet to break the horizon, but there was enough dawn to see the fog of his breath. They hadn't expected rain. The evening had been clear, every star visible with no clouds in sight. Gossamer always said that rain and snow were the cost of freedom. A house in a village kept you warm and dry, but you must heed the Goddess's rules. Deep in the forest, there was no one to enforce those laws. At that moment, Kelton thought the cost may be too high.

It was a struggle to get a flame going. The rain wasn't so hard that it prevented fire, but it was constant in it's soaking of the available tinder. The sun had broken above horizon, hidden in a blanket of gray clouds, by the time the coals were hot enough for the fire to burn untended. Kelton sat beneath a large branch that sheltered him from direct rain, though it did collect and large droplets fell periodically.

"Took you a long time," Gossamer said, finally emerging from beneath his soaked blanket with a dry beard. No part of Kelton felt dry.

"Mayhap, you'll help next time."

"You'd pull an old man out into the rain without a fire to warm him?" Kelton stood and walked over to the tree under which Gossamer lay. He jumped up and grabbed the nearest branch and shook it. A minor rainstorm soaked Gossamer.

"There's not call for that," Gossamer said as he rose quickly and shook off the water.

"Aye, there was," Kelton said with a chuckle. "I remember days when you'd soak my laziness."

"Young men are lazy. Old men are replenishing their strength." Gossamer smiled at Kelton as he spoke, letting him know he respected the payback. "I'll start the tea."

"It will be the fourth day with these leaves." Kelton sighed as he dug in his pack for the weak leaf. "Our supplies are running low, and this rain won't help foraging."

"It's been what? Seven days since we've had a good meal." Gossamer dug out the blackened kettle and filled it from his water pouch. He placed it on the edge of the fire, handle out.

"Mayhap, we should travel on the road this day. Trade a story or coin for some food and let someone see me." Kelton sat back under the tree, avoiding the worst of the rain. Gossamer gathered his belongings and joined him.

"It's a risk, but my stomach could use good food." Gossamer held up the cloth wrapped tea. "Mayhap we could find some new leaf as well. Might as well drink water as weak as this is."

They sat in the rain and ate the last of their dried meat and washed it down with feeble tea. It was enough for the day if one had to be frugal. Kelton had begun losing weight, his pants needed to be cinched tighter. It wouldn't be long before their strength would suffer. It was time to come out of the deep woods.

Walking on the road was a welcome relief. It took most of the morning, climbing through thick foliage, to reach it. Kelton found it freeing to move forward without concern for obstacles. They were moving like the wind.

"A village," Gossamer said when he reached the top of a small hill. The forest was giving way to fields that had long since been harvested. Kelton came to the top of the rise and looked down at a set of wooden buildings set close enough together to denote a small village. The long building was most likely a tavern, the shorter one's likely homes of craftsmen or families. The thatched roofs looked fresh as if they were recently replaced as one.

"What if I tie my hair back? If I don't lower my hood, no one will know," Kelton said hopefully.

"It's so damned wet, I doubt anyone could tell a color." Gossamer shrugged as if it mattered little. "I see no horse." He pointed to a fenced-in area. "That stable looks empty. No one could move much faster than us. As good a place as any to be seen."

"Can we eat first?"

Gossamer nodded. "And reload our supplies."

Kelton tied his hair back with a strip of leather and tucked it into his hood. They increased their stride as they continued along the road. The thought of a hot meal was a strong motivator.

"Someone in the road ahead," Gossamer said, pulling Kelton off to the side.

"I don't feel anyone," Kelton said, shaking his head. His eyes widened.

"One of the Brethren," Gossamer stated the obvious and moved into a thin tree line. "He's not moving." Kelton looked past Gossamer and saw the man standing stalk still in the middle of the road. Too still.

"He hasn't sensed you," Kelton whispered. "Why would he stand there in the rain?"

"Those aren't robes," Gossamer said, and moved back to the road. Kelton followed after testing the retrievability of his sword from Joycelyn's sheath. They walked toward the man, and as they neared, it became apparent why he was standing so still in the rain. He was very dead.

It wasn't quite a man either. A post had been driven into the ground, and the body was tied to it around the waist, neck, and forehead. The rope around the boy's neck was incredibly tight, most likely the cause of death.

"Goddess!" Kelton said. "Mayhap we should bypass this village." Gossamer moved closer to the body and examined the soaked hair. The skin of the boy was ashen, and his eyes had swelled oddly, giving him a look of insanity.

"His hair is red," Gossamer said. He turned and looked at Kelton with concern.

"You think they thought he was me?" Kelton felt his stomach stir. There was no blood, but the thought he was to blame made him ill.

"The age is close, and he's on display. I think it's meant as a warning." Gossamer tried to grab Kelton's arm as the boy turned toward the village. He missed. Kelton took off toward the tavern-like building. He could sense people inside.

"Kelton!" Gossamer tried in vain to slow Kelton. Kelton had no intention of stopping and began to run toward the building. No one dies for him. No one.

Kelton burst through the door of the tavern. A fire blazed in a stone hearth to his left. There were five long tables, two groups of men had gathered at two of them. Another heavyset man stood behind a counter to the right. Behind him was a woman in aprons pulling something out of a barrel.

"Who killed that man?" Kelton shouted, pointing in the direction of the road. He pulled out his sword when the shocked patrons didn't answer. "Who!" Gossamer came in and ceased trying to stop Kelton. Resigned, drew his sword as well.

"It was the King's Own, good sirs," the man behind the counter said. He put his palms out showing he was weaponless. The men at the tables began to rise and move backward.

"Why!" Kelton demanded.

"They hunt the red demon," a short man said as he duplicated the heavy set one's palms.

"It wasn't him," Kelton stuttered out. Tears had begun though they were well hidden on his rain-drenched face. He pulled his hood off and released his hair from its tie. "It is I, and you will tell them the difference."

"Goddess!" another man said, shock filling his eyes. Kelton dragged his blade along the right side of his face, drawing a long scar from his ear to his chin.

"Don't." Gossamer tried to stop Kelton but was too late. The blood began to flow and mix with the water still dripping from his hair.

"You will tell them I wear a scar." Kelton's voice was cracking. He couldn't bear someone else taking what was his due. The world as he knew it had changed again. Nothing was as it should be, nothing was as he imagined. He dropped to his knees, and his sword clattered to the floor.

"Dorena, bring me water and some rags." The heavyset man and moved to clear off the table nearest the counter. He waved to Gossamer, signaling for him to bring Kelton. "Lay him down." Gossamer lowered his sword, and half carried Kelton to the table and relieved him of his pack.

"Why would you do that?" Dorena asked as she began cleaning the wound. Kelton had scrunched his eyes shut as the pain of what he had done made itself known. He relished it. A deserved punishment for the death of the boy on the post.

"It's my fault," Gossamer said. "I hid him from the world for too long. Now the truth of it comes at him all at once, and he isn't ready."

"He's too thin to have eaten babies," the heavyset man stated. He looked up at the others in the tavern. "He doesn't look the fearsome beast they claim they are hunting."

"He's just a boy, Quarda," Dorena said. Kelton sucked in his breath as fresh air entered his wound while she wiped. "Not much older than Sardic. Why do they fear these boys so?"

"He killed one of the Brethren," Gossamer said. There was a chorus of gasps in the room.

"He was going to kill Joycelyn and her family," Kelton justified through his tears.

"Shh, don't speak. You're making it worse," Dorena said as she dabbed more blood away. "You will have the scar you seek as it is."

"I hear tell he's the one, Kushiel's Answer." A man approached carrying Kelton's sword. He had picked it up off the floor. Gossamer tightened his hand around the pommel of his. To his relief, the man placed it beside Kelton's pack.

"Just a boy," Gossamer said, shaking his head.

"Normal boys don't kill Brethren," the man continued. "I've seen one take on three grown men and laugh as he cut them to pieces."

"I've heard of one brother who took down five," another claimed.

"He got lucky. Snuck up on the Brother while he was busy fighting others." Gossamer sighed. "The Brother was laughing like you say, and Kelton ran up from behind and drove his sword through him. One of the people who saw it said his hair looked like fire."

"Head of fire, the first will fall," another man whispered. More than a few nodded.

"They fear an old tale," Quarda said. "Think we'll all rise up and such." He shook his head. "They are fools. We stood and watched what they did to Sardic, and none of us has the guts to even take him off the pole. Wolves needn't fear sheep."

"What would you have us do?" another man asked. "There were a dozen soldiers. Dying to prove a point is meaningless."

"I mean no insult. I was there as idle as you."

"He will need to be sewed," Dorena told Quarda. "It is deep by the ear. He'll need Lena."

"Talin, you fetch the healer and tell her to bring her needle." Quarda thought for a second then added. "Tell no one but Lena what you saw." He shook his finger at Talin. "You run off and speak to others, and I'll not let you add debt this winter, it's a long season eating bark." Talin agreed with a nod and ran off.

"You must tell people," Kelton said, trying to rise.

"Shh, lie still," Dorena said as she held him down and dabbed the new blood he caused.

"He's right," Gossamer said, "though I hope you give us some time to get some distance first. They need to hunt us, not others."

"Well, he's not leaving tonight," Dorena said. "He cut himself deep and needs food. That, and he stinks like he's been living in the woods. He'll not leave here without a bath." Kelton cringed at the idea. He couldn't smell himself, and the thought of being itchy and sore didn't appeal.

"Then no one leaves," Quarda ordered. "I'll not have any of you lot running off to collect coin until these two are long gone."

"It's a risk. Our lives could be forfeit," one of the men said.

"Food and ale for the night, no cost," Quarda bargained. "I like the idea of the Brethren feeling what we feel for a time. It's worth feeding you lot to make them feel it a bit longer." The assent was unanimous, though there was still fear in some eyes.

"Thank you," Gossamer said. "I've got some coin..."

"Save it. I stood still and let them choke Sardic on a pole. At least I can be brave behind their backs." Gossamer nodded and sat down next to Kelton's head and patted his arm.

"You didn't think again, my boy," Gossamer said with a sigh. "You move before you consider. Now there's some permanence to it."

"There's a nice face under all this grime," Dorena added. "Why would you damage it so?" She quickly held Kelton's lips closed when he tried to answer. He wanted to pull her hand away, but she squeezed tighter when his arm moved.

"He wanted to mark himself so that the King's own wouldn't hunt others. All heart and no mind." Gossamer shook his head.

"Well, they'll know him now. If they bother to care." The disgust in Dorena's voice was evident. She again clamped down on Kelton's lips. He wanted to interject his opinion yet he deferred to Dorena's demand for silence. She was much heavier than Joycelyn, but had the same strength about her. Kelton wondered why the Brethren, or at least the Brother he killed, thought women were like cattle. His experience was quite different. They had a power one could only charge through, and a softness that made one not desire too.

Kelton lay on the table for a short forever while Dorena wiped blood from his cut every so often adding a smile when he looked her way. Gossamer was busy eating a thick stew, dipping a crusty bread every so often. Kelton's stomach growled at the smell.

"You'll eat once you're sewed," Dorena said, then chuckled. "Lena and her needle will teach you about scaring yourself. Not one for avoiding pain, that one." Kelton's eyes widen at her words. He hadn't thought past marking himself.

The door to the tavern opened and an old woman hobbled in relying on a well-worn walking stick to support her right side. She was the oldest woman Kelton had ever seen. Her hair was stringy, hanging low and gray over her shoulders. Her clothes were many layered and mostly tattered. Kelton was concerned about her face, a mass of wrinkles so thick he was sure they hurt.

"Where be the dumb one," Lena said. Her voice was a lot healthier than her body let on. Dorena indicated Kelton. Lena nodded and hobbled over to the table. "They say you be the one, boy." She grabbed Kelton's head and forced it to turn wound up. "It looks like you bleed well enough. The one be not a boy and not be so dumb in the head." Gossamer laughed.

"And you be the one who let him do it, I hear," Lena chided Gossamer. She glared at him which served to end the laughter. She roughly opened the wound on Kelton's cheek and he bit back a groan. "They be right to call for the needle. A little deeper and you'd have another useless hole in your head."

Lena fiddled in her clothes and pulled out a small bag. She opened it and pulled out a needle that looked bigger than Kelton had imagined. She made several attempts to feed a thick thread through the eye, her hands shaking more than Kelton thought they should. He was dismayed when she finally succeeded.

"You have to hold him down," Lena said as she hovered over Kelton. Gossamer moved over Kelton's chest. Lena moved back. "It will take more than you. One on each limb. Quarda, you make his head still." Kelton tried to rise, attempting to move Gossamer out of the way so he could escape. Four other men joined Gossamer, each grabbing a limb. Quarda took his head and firmly held it to the table, cut side up. Struggle as he might, Kelton was powerless to move. Pure terror filled him as he felt Lena's fingers squeeze his wound closed. Every muscle in his body tensed at once. The needle brought out repeated screams, one for each stitch.

Kelton was panting uncontrollably when they finally let him loose. He tried to sit up, but Lena held him down while she examined her work. He had never felt such pain and didn't like the look in Lena's eyes. He looked around for an escape route in case there was any chance she thought she wasn't done.

"You be loud for a boy," Lena said as she forcibly turned his head side to side. She seemed unconcerned that his muscles weren't cooperating.

"It still hurts," Kelton admitted.

"I do good work," Lena said with a smile that was missing many teeth. She reached up above Kelton's head to push his hair out of the way. Kelton saw a faded image on her wrist. A wilted rose.

"You are..." Kelton began and realized he didn't know how to finished.

"One of the cursed," Lena finished, turning her wrist so that he could see it as well. "Be little call for those services these days." She laughed, which caused Kelton to smile. It was painful. "There be a time when I was in great demand. Broke in many such as you." She slapped Kelton's shoulder as if she were his best friend. He preferred it to the needle.

"I know another like you." Kelton's jaw felt swollen and bruised. It hurt to talk, so he limited the movement of his lips. "She burnt off the mark."

"Shh, that be a sin in the Brethren's eyes," Lena whispered.

"Aye." Kelton nodded carefully. His face turned sullen. "It's what started all this. It is why that boy is dead on that pole."

"Slicing your face, that be your fault," Lena said. Her wrinkled hand continued to carefully push Kelton's hair from his scar. She cradled his good cheek in her palm. "The boy be dead because the King deems it so. That weight belongs to the King. I be alive too long and see too much. I know what's what."

"He's dead because of what I did."

"If not him, another then. Different reason, but always another." Lena helped Kelton to his feet. "Fear be what they build. You change nothing."

"If your goal was to be ugly, you did it well," Gossamer said as he critically examined Kelton's face. He handed Kelton a bowl of stew. Kelton sat at the table and began to eat. He had to chew slowly on the left side to keep the pain at a minimum. The bread had to be torn into small pieces so it would fit between barely opened lips.

"Your wound will itch fiercely for a day or two. Don't be playing with it." Lena watched as Kelton chewed, making sure the stitches held. She looked at Gossamer. "When it heals solid, you can cut away the thread." She smiled. "It will hurt coming out, but not like going in." Gossamer nodded.

"Where's Talin?" Quarda called as he came forward with two cups of ale. "Did he not come back with you Lena?"

"He ran off as soon as he told me about the need," Lena replied.

"Goddess!" Quarda slammed the ale down hard enough that some spilled over their rims. "I'd wager he went after the coin. He's been gone a long time."

"We can't stay," Gossamer told Kelton. Kelton nodded with an audible sigh. He had been looking forward to a warm night's sleep. The cold night air would aggravate his already sore face, which now felt two sizes too big.

"Dorena, load a bag with some smoked pork. Some of them nuts as well." Quarda shook his head. "It is sad that some always help those that do us harm. It's fear that makes us weak."

Dorena came from behind the counter and handed Gossamer a small bag heavy with traveling food. He thanked her and quickly doffed the ale Quarda had brought.

"You need a bath," Dorena told Kelton before kissing his forehead. Lena nodded. The compassion pleased him. Again, he wondered why women didn't hold a higher place. They looked at the world differently, seeing the things men ignored. If he had a choice, he would have stayed in the tavern and let Dorena and Lena take care of those things. Take care of him.

"Two are coming," Kelton said, his sense breaking him out of his thoughts.

"The door?" Gossamer asked.